Ground Control to Major Tom
by LaueHime
Summary: Written for a prompt on LJ. One shot. Teen!chesters. John comes home to find a mess and a sleepy Dean somewhere inside it. It's just the thing to set him off and turn him into the drill sergeant he is. The fact that Dean says he's not feeling well doesn't seem to faze him either. Too bad his eldest is not usually one to lie. Full prompt inside.


**Title: **Ground Control to Major Tom

**Author:** lauehime

**Rating:** PG

**Genre/pairing: **Hurt/comfort, Family, Gen

**Characters:** Sam, Dean

**Word count: **2,707

**Summary:** Written for One_d_mouse's prompt on tarotgal's comment fic meme on LJ "Dad comes home and the apartment is a mess, and he's found Sam walking home from school ALONE and "gee, I am really not feeling well, Dad" doesn't seem to cut it. John suspects his son is simply being lazy and irresponsible. So sick late teens (or early twenties) Dean has to clean the whole apartment, the car, do a TON of drills and run some laps as punishment. Except maybe it's not a cold but really the flu and-oh, hello, ground! Nice to meet you!"

**Disclaimer:** The show belongs to Kripke.

SNSN

Teen!chesters

Dean is 18 and Sam is 14.

SNSN

The sky was already dark when John hopped into his truck and started towards the small apartment he rented. The last days of October were taking their toll on him as the lack of light affected his mood.

His day had been excruciatingly long and, to make things worse, a veil of snow covered the sky. He was caught off guard. The weather dropped beneath 30 and he hoped to God that his sons had the senses to pull an extra layer.

He drove by Sam's school and peeked at the empty yard. Something caught his attention. There was a kid walking down the street. His unease increased when he realized that the hoodie was familiar.

He rolled his window down. "Sam?" he called. The little head snapped up and John didn't need to see through the long bangs. "Get in the car, now".

The frail teenager climbed up the passenger seat and hugged himself to keep what little warmth he had left.

"What are you doing out there? Dean was supposed to pick you up!" John accused immediately.

Sam shrunk at the authority in his father's voice. "It's my fault, sir" he whispered. John tried to maintain eye contact while still checking the road.

"Come again"

"It's my fault. I forgot the cell phone in my room" Sam flinched.

"Why do you think I spend money on things like a cell phone? You're supposed to bring it everywhere, Sam! What if something happened?" John admonished.

"Sorry"

"That's not enough! What have I taught you in the last years? You obviously haven't been working hard enough" John barked. He would have to make both his sons work harder.

When they reached the apartment, another storm was waiting to hit. John took in the discarded plates of take-out food scattered around the room. He scowled when he realized that the weapons hadn't been cleaned. The table was a mess of stacks of papers and laundry was here and there. On top of that, Dean was lying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, with the TV on. His eldest was apparently asleep.

"Dean Winchester!" John growled. It was enough to startle the slumbering teen into awakening.

"Dad" Dean stammered, snapping back into awareness. His knees weakened when he took in the state of the room. His father would tear him a new one in a matter of minutes.

"What the hell have you been doing all this time? The room's a mess and the weapons haven't been scrubbed. Do you know how dangerous it is to hunt with a dirty shotgun? Do you want one of us to get killed?" John lectured.

Dean shivered. "M'bsorry, dad" he managed past the lump in his throat.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, boy! You know better than this! Why did I have to pick your brother up from the side of the road? Something else you've neglected to do?" John seethed.

Dean turned to his younger brother's silent form and gave him a look of apology. Sam nodded.

"I'b very sorry, dad. I just haven'd been feeling too good in the past days" Dean admitted, sniffling in the meantime.

John shook his head angrily. "Don't, Dean. I don't want to hear your pathetic excuse for being irresponsible. Your little break is over. I'm going out to pick up something to eat. The room better be clear when I come back, you hear me?"

Dean sighed and cast his eyes down, avoiding the disappointment in his father's eyes. "Yes, sir" he huffed out.

John left without another word. Dean stumbled towards the mess and started rummaging through it, albeit sluggishly. Sam frowned. "You okay, Dean?"

The eldest shrugged it off and started filtering the stacks of paper with shaky fingers.

"Dean!" Sam insisted, his eyes wide and dewy. Dean cursed him internally for those. They always got his little brother everything he wanted.

"S'okay, Sabby. Just tired" he lied. Sam saw right through it, but didn't push it.

"Then let me help" he proposed instead. Dean went to stop him, but Sam made it clear that it wasn't a proposition.

"Hey, we both made this mess. I won't let dad put this all on you" the youngest stated. It earned him a thankful smile from his big brother. They cleaned the mess long before dad came back.

"Sorry for not picking you ub" Dean blurted out suddenly. Sam turned comprehensive eyes to him. That damn sensitive kid would be the death of him.

"It's no big deal, Dean. I can walk. I'm fourteen, remember?" Sam pointed out.

Dean's wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders. "Really? Because sometimes you look forty"

Sam smiled, his dimples sticking out.

Their moment was short lived when John barged inside the room. "Super's ready, boys. When it's over, Sam you're doing Latin and Dean… we'll talk"

They ate in silence. Towards the end, Sam started to complain because he had a history report due for the next day. John sighed. "Alright," he bended. "Sam, your homework. Dean, guns AND Latin" he instructed.

Sam's face filled with guilt at inflicting such a punishment to his brother. "Sorry" he spoke voicelessly. Dean sat with the guns and John towering over him.

"Since I obviously can't trust you doing it on your own, you'll clean each and every one of them right here, in front of me" John ordered. A cloud of dust rose from the arsenal and tickled Dean's nose. He tried to muffle the sneezes that built at the back of his throat, but they exploded out of him before he could stop them. _irt'chuh…ixshnt…eg'chuh…eg'xchnt…er'tchuh…_ John tossed him a box of tissues while rolling his eyes. Dean accepted them thankfully.

It took him hours to clean the guns, the way his father wanted him to. John made sure Dean didn't cut corners. By the end, Dean was rubbing his temples and his eyes drooped from exhaustion. His relief was short lived when John took out the Latin books and dropped them in front of him.

Sam chose this moment to come out of his room. "Hey dad, I'm done with my assignment. I can do the Latin" he proposed.

"This is between your brother and me, Sam. It's late and I want you in bed"

"But dad…"

"No buts, kid. Bed, now" John ordered.

Sam pouted his way to his bed. Dean watched his brother go. Their father turned back to him. "I want that spell translated for tonight" he demanded before turning to the weapons and picking them up to move them back to his truck.

It took another few hours for Dean to get through the spell. When he finally translated the last words, it was almost midnight. John was sitting at the table with his journal. He had completed an entry on the job he was working on.

"We still have a few days before we can attack this thing. I want you boys to be ready. Dean, you're trailing behind" John noted. Dean shrugged. He was exhausted and his head was killing him.

"Go out and run two miles. When you're done you can shower and sleep"

Dean's face fell. "But dad, it's almost midnight and it's snowing outside!"

John looked at him, seemingly unfazed by the clock. "Then you better get started"

Dean cursed, but he knew better than to oppose to his father's commands. He put on his sweats and started the trek to the neighboring streets. Every muscle in his body felt like it was igniting into fire, but he couldn't stop. When he came back, he was out of breath and drenched in sweat. He almost fell asleep in the shower, but still managed to drag himself to his bed.

He woke up to pain. It was everywhere, every corner of his body. Then he realized what woke him. His father was shaking him. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that he should still be asleep.

"Dad?"

John was dressed to run a marathon. "Get dressed son, we're going on a run"

Dean didn't find the energy to argue. John led the way. Dean trailed behind. His muscles were still sore. On top of that, his chest felt tight. At some point he had to stop and cough. The sound was deep and dry.

John frowned. "Already out of breath? Let's add one mile. You're definitely out of shape". And he did add a mile each time Dean stopped to cough up a lung.

When they came back, Sam was making breakfast. John darted for the shower and Dean crashed on the couch, closing his eyes against the fiery pain that was… well… everywhere.

"That bad?" Sam asked while flipping a pancake. Dean didn't even care to reply. That got Sam all the answers he needed. After breakfast, Dean was given the duties of dishes and then laundry. All those clothes that had been lying around couldn't be clean.

He returned with a headache so bad it brought on nausea. Sam shot him concerned glances. Dean just wanted to crash and sleep, but John wouldn't have it. "You're done? The truck's low on gas. Clean it while you're at it"

Sam turned to his father. "Can I go with him?" he pleaded, not liking the way Dean was drilled around like a soldier.

"No, Sam. You have to research the lore with me. We need to know how to kill that thing"

Sam shrugged apologetically and Dean left with his head down. He almost fell asleep on the way to the garage and on the way back. When he entered the apartment, he was a shivering heap. Sam was instantly by his side.

"Dean, you okay?"

His concerned hazel eyes melted his brother's heart. "G…good…Sammy. Just…cold" he stuttered from chattering teeth. John was up and ready to give his next command.

"We're out of food"

Sam turned accusing looks at his father. "I'll go" he volunteered.

"No, Dean goes. I still need you here"

Sam was growing furious. "But dad, look at him. He needs a break. I can go! I won't be long" he pleaded. John's fists clenched and Sam knew he'd gone too far.

"Samuel Winchester, your ass stays here with me. Dean, food now"

Dean despondently grabbed the car keys and drove all the way to the grocery store. He robotically picked items that he paid for without a thought for the stolen money he was using. He felt like death on his feet.

He didn't argue that night when his dad called on more running. When he came back, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

His dad woke him the next morning. Dean knew the drill. His body had never hurt that much, not even when he'd been thrown into walls by angry poltergeists. His chest was tight and he could hardly breathe.

"C'mon, Dean. Time's a wasting!" John pushed.

Dean grunted. His eyes watered from the pain. He just wanted to go back to sleep and never wake up. An immense fatigue overpowered him and he could do nothing more than welcome it gratefully.

John stared in shock as he watched his son crumble to a silent heap. "Dean? Wake up! This is no time to get lazy! C'mon!" he barked as Dean remained unmoving. His voice had been loud enough to wake his youngest.

"What's going on, dad?" Sam asked, his eyes till coated with sleep, but then landed on his brother.

"Dean!" he yelped, suddenly wide awake.

"Leave him alone. He needs to get his ass up!" John commanded.

Sam reached out for his brother felt the heat radiating from him. "He's not faking, dad. He's burning up! Dean's sick! He's been sick for days, but you had your head too far up your ass to notice!" Sam spat. His concern for his brother had taken away his fear of his father's retaliation.

"What did you just say to me?" John seethed. Sam was shaking his brother, trying to get him to arouse.

"Forget it, dad! Dean's unconscious and he's burning up!"

Reality clicked inside John's head and he pushed his anger aside. He almost flinched from the heat that brushed against his fingers when he touched his eldest's skin. Sam was right, Dean was sporting a fever – a _high_ one that is.

"Go grab the first aid kit, son" he asked softly. Sam nodded and produced the box. John pulled the thermometer out and placed it in Dean's ear. They waited for the beep.

"103" John droned. Sam's eyes snapped open.

"Dad, he needs a hospital!"

John shook his head. "No. No hospital. Fill the tub with cold water" he instructed.

Sam was ready to argue, but the concern in his father's eyes shut him up. He went to the bathroom. John carried his eldest and carefully lowered him in the water.

Dean shivered and woke with a start. "Hur's. Don' hur' be… burnds" he muffled, out of it.

"It's okay, Ace. Don't worry. It's just a fever and we gotta get it down to make you better. You're okay" John cooed into his delirious son's ear. Sam was startled by how caring his father could be in contrast to the way he had treated his brother in the past days.

"Da'?"

"Yeah, kiddo. I'm right here. I've got you"

Sam smiled softly and left the room to prepare Dean's bed. He picked up ibuprofen and cold compresses. John wrapped his shivering son in a towel and helped him into bed. Dean was still out of it, but he wasn't fighting them anymore. Sam gave him pills and water. After that, Dean was instantly asleep.

He slept through the whole day, waking up for pills and chicken broth. He finally came to during the evening. The whole place was dark, but he could clearly see his father sitting vigil next to his bed.

"Dad?" Dean asked, finally coherent.

"Hey, kiddo. You with me this time?"

Dean nodded, but frowned when his headache spiked. John handed him pills and water.

"What happened?" Dean asked after downing the water.

"You were sick. Spiked a fever of 103. You've been asleep ever since" John recalled. Dean flashed a surprised look.

"I knew I wasn't feeling good, but I thought it was just the training that was wearing me out"

John sighed sadly. "Apparently such hard training doesn't do well with the flu. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you that first night when you said you weren't feeling good"

Dean smiled softly. "Are you apologizing to me? Gee, I gotta get sick more often" he joked.

John pursed his lips, his eyes filling with profound sadness. "I'm really sorry, Dean. With Sam walking home because he forgot his phone and the apartment being a mess, I just lost it. I truly, only want to keep you both safe. You're all I have left" he confessed.

Dean frowned. "What's that about Sam's phone?"

John's brow furrowed. "Well that's what he said when I picked him up. Couldn't call you"

Dean's heart warmed inside his chest and he couldn't help the smile that slipped on his lips. "He did call me. I asked him if it was okay for him to walk because I wasn't feeling well enough to pick him up"

Things clicked into place in John's head. Sam had known he would blame Dean for not picking him up so he lied to cover for his brother. His lips tugged into a proud smile. When he thought his boys didn't work hard enough, he had failed to see the most important things.

Yes, his boys still needed to train. It was the only way they could defend themselves against getting hurt. John couldn't stand that idea. He'd train his sons hard if it meant keeping them safe.

But his boys knew how to take one for the team. Sam had sensed his brother's distress and tried by every means to help him in his duties. They might still be young and fragile but they already thought of each other as a team.

That night, John went to sleep knowing that if something ever happened to him, at least his boys would always be there for each other. He never felt prouder.


End file.
